The True Tale of Potter Frost
by Audacia's Quill
Summary: Slash. Full warnings inside & my excuses     "This is the story of Harry Potter and the Power the Dark Lord Knows Not, and not even the Shadows, could have foreseen the second coming of Frost..." Elemental!Harry
1. Awaken the Frost

**Author's Important Note:**

**Look, if you go to my profile, you can see my various reasons for inactivity, and this is my way of trying to "get back into things,". This is my 2nd collab with The-Living-Shadow and operates under the same lines as most of my fanfic. Yaoi, M for Future Content, Crossover, Dont Like - Dont Read. Simple.**

**Forgive me, I'm trying to get back to normal. I'd lose patience with myself too - starting and stopping on everything. But Escapism is likely to come next, so just..bare with me..us, please?**

**R&R**

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><p><strong>Chapter One<strong>

The Dursleys had stopped inviting him down for dinner and instead brought it to the freak's room, where it was barely touched.

None of them were at all, eased by the blank stare that was perpetually affixed to Harry Potter.

Something had happened at that freak school of his, and his freak godfather, - something was always happening.

Frankly none of them cared about the details of whatever had transpired, all they knew was that it had a devastating effect.

They did their best to distance themselves, that's what the boy needed - distance.

He was even less normal then before and none of them wanted to deal with it or even approach it. Even Dudley had refrained from approaching Harry after lapsing into abnormal shivers when he'd approached the door of the smallest bedroom.

Nothing had felt right since he'd returned to Privet Drive; he had put that down to Sirius Black dying in the Department of Mysteries, and the cut correspondence to his friends.

Returning to a semblance of normalcy in the muggle world away from witches and wizards, surely that and the combination of mourning and his failed occlumency had something to do with it. That was another thing that as bugging Harry (a lot of things were now that he had an unbearable amount of time to contemplate it), his nightmares.

They hadn't increased or decreased in both violence or frequency, but rather, his emotional response to them had decreased dramatically.

He felt so detached from everything and it couldn't be rationed down to his attempts at occlumency because he failed amazingly at it.

Harry found that even when the Dursleys had left him be, and started leaving the heater on at night, as per Harry's only demand, he'd awoken abruptly in sweats and shivers. He did not feel the regular hot intensity of awaking out of Voldemort's mind, but rather a sweeping coldness that was burrowing into his core, like a worm into an apple.

Waking up in his bed, curling himself repeatedly into his thin sheets and clothes, shocking himself when he could see his own silvery breathe in the night.

Everyday he felt himself getting colder and paler, and he was sure he was ill, when Aunt Petunia had finally gotten the nerve to open his door fully and check in, she dropped the dinner she was bringing up.

Yelling something about being accused of not looking after him, and "freaks thinking we're neglecting you," Harry was forcibly dragged to a muggle doctor , this was when it got stranger for Harry Potter (since when was it ever normal?)

The muggle doctor had to check several times after spending a solid amount of time digging out his medical record, making calls, and even referring Harry into ER.

The average body temperature of your standard person was around 37 Degrees Celsius, and to have it be different was highly irregular and indicate to a range of medical issues.

Other then this, Harry proved to be in perfect health - if a bit on the thin side, but could be cured easily with a regulated diet.

The problem with Harry was his body temperature was far lower then something statistically possible and it was raising serious issues for the muggle was no issue with his hypothalamus, except that it didn't seem to be making any effort in regulating him back to a healthy temperature, and seemed perfectly content with Harry's state.

The question begged - how are you still alive and functioning? The boy couldn't be any colder if he had Jack Frost sitting on his shoulder.

Eventually Harry had to tell the Order, who did a swift job in obliviating the doctor's and trying to get a healer over while guarding, but Harry seemed healthy enough.

* * *

><p>Funnily enough, the only person aware of Harry's state who wasn't worried was Albus Dumbledore himself, who was reclined back in his chair at his office with a hand going through his beard.<p>

An eye looked over his half-moon glasses to Fawkes, who seemed to know what was going on, and was rather ruffled at the lack of attention.

Finally he let out a content little chuckle while contemplating writing to Harry to clear things up, or let the boy self discover.

"Old Jack's at it again I see, didn't think that would happen," he popped a lemon drop into his mouth and then shifted to a slightly more serious expression as he looked at Fawkes.

"Love? The Power the Dark Lord Knows Not...how could I have miscalculated so grievously?" he mumbled, to which Fawkes responded with the avian equivalent of a shrug.

The old man DID seem more prone to errors in his old age.

* * *

><p>Harry tried putting on several pairs of oversized clothes but nothing seemed to work, to warm him up after his nightmare.<p>

So he ran out into the corridor and into the bathroom, barely controlling the temperature of the showers as he put them on so hot that'd leave white skin, pink and seared.

He discarded his clothes and threw himself into it, bracing himself for a terrible burn.

Instead he felt a tickle of lukewarm water being rained down upon him, and putting blots of water into his glasses that he'd forgotten to remove.

He looked around the bathroom in surprise but found everything so incredibly foggy that he removed his glasses, only to find the entire room had instantly smoked up even thicker then what had stained his lenses.

Steam radiated off his naked back and Harry leaned back into the bathtub in complete defeat, though no longer shivering, accepting his weird medical condition - at least until he could see Madame Pomfrey at Hogwarts - hell even Snape might have an answer.

Searing hot water tickled his skin as merely lukewarm as he leaned into the tub, and as he felt defeat and forced acceptance, he felt the intensity of the coldness dissipate.

He felt a little more of the water's heat, slowly, and before it'd return to the searing heat that he'd set it as, Harry turned it off.

Everything was easier to control if you accepted it, and it seemed the same appeared for his...rather bizarre, cold state of affairs.

This was how it went for many nights at a time, he stopped bothering to go out and opted to sleep in to catch up on his rest, and stare mournfully out of his steamed up windows.

He resolved it was a magical issue, but had no idea of the cause.

There were days when it fell to the wayside though, and his worries turned to his social struggles. Harry did his best to act the way he always did, even with depression and his condition hanging over him like a cloud. He eventually started going out and accepting chores again, that the Dursleys hesitantly gave – having the Order's threat in mind.

Harry nodded to his Aunt who ordered him into the gardens to take out the freshly grown-in weeds, with Mad-Eye's advice in mind, he reached for his wand to slide into his front pocket – just incase. He was mindful not to put it in the back, lest he sit on it, or in Mad-Eye's words "blast off a buttock,".

It was the first time he'd reached for his wand all summer, and he was surprised by how…off it had felt. He furrowed his brow and looked at his wand, he was sure it wasn't depleting since he was sure there was methods to prevent wood rot. Harry could have sworn that the deep brown of the wood was getting lighter everytime he looked at it, so he made a mental note to see Ollivander before the start of term. Even as he firmly grasped it and ran his hand over it, it felt cold on the inside, which was bizarre. Sighing to himself, he guessed it was his condition again – everything was starting to seem cold these days, freezing even.

And even though Albus Dumbledore wasn't Harry's favourite person at the moment, he'd even wrote to him in desperation, and hadn't received a response in days…

Even Hedwig could tell something had changed, but made an effort not to fly back when Harry stroked her out of loneliness, though shivering in a ruffle of feathers, feeling the tender cold.

After tucking his wand away and shaking out of his thoughts, he went into the garden and began to weed. The menial task did little to take Harry's mind off his thoughts as he heard passing children whisper just loud enough under their breath about him. They used to rehash the things the Dursleys put out about him, but the whole neighbourhood had heard of his _freakishness_, now the kids were saying something else.

They made mock-shivering sounds, which turned real when they entered his radius, and when Harry looked up to meet their eyes, they'd say something along the lines of "_Erugh, ew, freak,"_

Too young to really start swearing, the children left with howls of "Jack Frost! Jack Frost! Jack Frost!" in their wake.

Closing his eyes and muttering sourly, Harry went back to his weeding. In reality he knew there were worse things to be called, so perhaps he should suck it up and get used to this. It was probably preferable to the myriad of names he'd been called before. A reminder to get used to his newfound status came in the form of Dudley, as he adapted to calling Harry the same things the children had. It was pathetic really, especially considering that Harry had saved his cousin's life the year before, and Dudley wasn't treating him any better.

An epiphany hit him as he pulled out a stubborn weed that was lodged so hard into the soil, that he fell back unflatteringly onto his behind.

He had seen fear in the eyes of his cousin when they last spoke, which was a few days ago when Harry started coming out of his room more. Harry knew that Dudley had always feared his magic – all the Dursley's did, but this fear was more upfront, like a fresh trauma wound – like when he was actively scared of Hagrid in first year after gaining a pig's tail.

He had confronted his cousin head-on about it, who surprisingly didn't deny it and answered quickly to end the dialogue with his freakish cousin.

"You- you feel like those dement-y thingies," hissed Dudley venomously.

"I saved you from those, Dud," reasoned Harry, refusing to be hurt by the callousness of being compared to a dementor by his cousin.

Blinking owlishly, he went over the statement and pressed his cousin for more.

"Wait, I 'feel like' one? What do you mean?" he asked, honestly befuddled.

Dudley backed into the kitchen as he heard Aunt Petunia calling him for dinner and gave his cousin a last harsh look.

"You feel cold. Not…sad and… miserable… like those things, but you feel cold like them, and it's not normal," with that, he quickly waddled his way into the kitchen, not wanting to see if he made his freakish cousin angry or not.

Harry turned back and made his way upstairs to run himself a bath, they caused less steam then his blasting hot showers, opting to skip dinner.

Over the days he'd gotten used to the rather tame, though irritating names he had, as a colourful change from "Boy" or "Freak".

Even "Scarhead" and "Foureyes" had gone out of use, it was "Jack Frost," "Frosty the Snowman," and "Blizzard Boy," though it was rarer, they had stuck to humming the tunes of ice-related songs, spitefully, whenever Harry was near. At first he hadn't found it hurtful at all, but malicious intent had leaked from the silliness of it all, leading him to feel a twinge hurt everytime his ears picked up on it.

At first they even thought he was dying, until the medics had dispelled them of the notion.

It made him angry to think of all the crap he was putting up with, but he forced it down as it made his glasses fog up and feel cold on his face.

Harry quickly got an Order member to spell them for him to prevent them from doing it, and without his permission, Tonks had also discreetly made them into rectangular, better fitting specs.

He decided to finally brave looking in the bathroom mirror, to see just how pale he looked. It didn't look as sickly as he was used to, in fact he was as white as a sheet, and his eyes looked…as they always had, though almost seemed bigger as they shone against the light like sunlight to a pond. The glasses seemed to mature his face and soothe the femininity of his high cheekbones and refined features that were being toned down as he began to reach a healthy weight. He could thank the Order for threatening the Dursleys to feed him, and Oliver Wood's Quidditch regime for his body physique –leaner, stronger, and no longer malnourished.

Grabbing a wet comb, he combed out his hair which had grown out to what Petunia would call "a hobo look", as it grew to hit his shoulders.

Finishing up, Harry decided he'd probably crack open a book he'd gotten from Hermione before his owl mail stopped.

His thoughts were halted abruptly as he heard Vernon ranting loudly to Petunia.

It was something along the lines of "Bloody immigrants moving in," and with that in mind, a slow smile trickled to Harry's lips.

I looks like he had something to do after all.

Walking over to the bathroom window, he opened it slightly to peer out; there were no moving vans, and no moving signs, but being so much a gossip like his wife, Vernon was probably right about the new comers and they would probably arrive in less than a week.

Harry wondered what they would be like.

Don't get him wrong; Asian, African, skin colour. Harry didn't care about any of that nonsense, people were people at the end of the day and were all living creatures in his eyes, to discriminate someone would make him a hypocrite like Voldemort and his blood relatives; Vernon, Petunia and Dudley.

Shaking his head against the unwanted thoughts, Harry sighed and headed for his bedroom, ignoring his still ranting uncle about 'immigrants', he wondered if he should just read the books Hermione sent him.

Then again...what else could he do OTHER than read books? There was no way his so called family would include him in any of their 'get togethers' downstairs. Sighing once more, he ignored the feeling of his wet hair freezing itself dry. Harry calmly walked back to his room, smirking when he saw the broken locks; frozen, broken and completely unusable.

Petunia was terrified when it happened, Dudley was...well cowardly and Vernon was a mix of being furious and experiencing pure terror as ice slowly covered each lock and parts of the door. In Harry's own defence, he did warn them beforehand that locking him in when he was craving a shower was a very bad thing.

For some reason, he had to have showers regularly...maybe it was because the water would sometimes freeze and sooth him; warm water no longer seemed to have that effect as much.

"Hermione might know what's wrong with me," Harry mumbled, smiling when Hedwig chirped a 'hello' as he opened his door.

"Hey girl, you miss me?" he asked softly, though he couldn't help wince when she moved slightly away to the far end on his windowsill, before forcing her body to move back in his direction; she hated the cold.

"Your one...loyal and brave girl," she chirped once more as if in agreement.

"-The most beautiful too," this time, she nodded sharply as if she knew that fact all along.

Harry laughed, grinning even more as she flew onto his bed and pecked a package before trying to untie it herself with her beak; it was not a book, but what he guessed was a letter.

"When did this come?" he asked Hedwig, who merely hooted as Harry fingered the letter and then hastily opened it.

His eyes lit up as he saw it was from the headmaster, Albus Dumbledore.

The loopy cursive read:

"_Dear Harry,_

_My apologies for not responding sooner, there has been so much going on that it's been stealing away time. I know this isn't acceptable, with what you're going through, and I can't put too much detail into this incase of interception. I have included a textbook from my personal libraries that may clear some things up. I have added my own notes to certain parts, good luck Harry, stay strong._

_-Regards,_

_Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore,"_

Scowling at the shortness and curtness of the letter, Harry put it aside and picked up the shrunken book that had been included with the envelope, which began to open to full side.

He almost snorted at the book when he read the title: 'The True Tale of Jack Frost, by Raveneau Blanc,'

Well, the muggle story had to start from somewhere.

The story itself bore no resemblance to the tale of a heartbroken sprite who was granted temporary humanity by Father Winter, but instead was autobiography, of the first and only ice elemental. As he read further into it, he found himself enraptured with the detail in which the elemental's feelings were written.

Ice was the main state of water which Frost was recorded to control, but still retained ability over the element of water in it's entirety.

He saw Dumbledore's coloured ink weaved into the pages of the book, underlining emphasis and use of power to save Harry the time of reading between lines.

The more he read into it the more fearful he became as more and more things began to come to light.

The more learned of it the more palpable his power seemed to be, he at first became contented with it which deepened into a fear as he read the degree of power that the original Frost had.

He wondered if he possessed that power too, and an inkling spread to surety as Harry realized he was in the exact position Frost was in.

The tale told of a human, birthed from a snow sprite and a mortal, who became Frost, the only recorded water-ice elemental to date. His power was so large and encompassing that many feared him as winter rolled around and his magic peaked. Wizards refused him, and as a half-ling, the sprites refused him, as both his natural magical cores of elements and natural magic merged, into a being that ruled an entire element to a degree that bordered god-like. The most powerful fire sprite teamed up with one of the world's only forest-creature capable of wizardry – the early vampire knights, Frost became bitter with rage and used his powers to wreak havoc upon those who had wronged him, and as Grindelwald began to rise, they had to take him out.

So they did, it was a battle that raged for hours as beings representatives of both opposing elements, fire and ice waged a war that nearly faded to obscurity and fairy-tale legend.

The book told of the legendary things Frost had done, he pulled water from the air, froze it within a glance, and wrapped an icy hold around the hearts of his foes as they died at his feet. Harry dropped the book in shaking hands.

He could do all that, in theory – no… no he was sure, he could do that, those terrifying things – he was sure….

The power of the Frost had been sworn to never be reborn again as sprites banned themselves from loving and mating with humankind.

But Frost had a child, and the child was normal, a full wizard they said, but the last remaining vampire knight had known better. The fire sprites would hear none of it, it was over, they were never to band together or speak of it again, but the Knight, who was a Seer before he was recognized as a turned vampire, spoke of the power of Frost one day returning.

Then, ending as a fairytale would, Harry saw the looping text: The End.

Harry shook his head, half of that didn't seem reliable, the chance of Frost running through the veins of a half-blood Potter, who had the thin streams of Godric Gryffindor within him was associated with reds and fire, it was…it was….

Poetic irony, really.

Then it clicked.

The Power the Dark Lord Knows Not.

Could it be? It had to be, it was the only thing that made any inch of sense. Love was well and good and Voldemort was definitely a sociopath incapable of it, but how could that have been the weapon? How could he have used that offensively? It was a one-off defence mechanism that had saved him from the killing curse by means of a blood and life sacrifice, meaning it only worked once.

The blood wards were trickling remnants, a weak defence, but no way would it mean he would survive a killing curse again, if he did, it'd be for reasons beyond his mother's sacrifice, which has been paid for.

Harry groaned in despair and leaned back into the bed, with only Hedwig's sympathetic hoot to soothe him.

"Would they to turn against me? Like what happened to Frost in the story?" he mumbled bitterly; half-breeds though excepted, were still scorned upon in the wizard world. Harry didn't doubt for one second that he would be an 'exception', just look at Hagrid; kind to everyone, causing all the school children at Hogwarts to love him, but as soon as they graduated, they never looked his way again, or even lifted a finger to make his life more comfortable.

They thought Harry was a freak **before **he became Frost just because he could speak to snakes, told them the truth about Voldemort...and yet they still treated him like a monster, even Ron who was supposed to be his best friend looked at him like he was some kind of freak of nature.

As soon as he killed Voldemort...his life...the wizard world would make it a living hell. Those classed as non-human (wizard) were not allowed into their family vaults, were not allowed slandered jobs unless approved by the ministry and were checked on whenever they had children, encase they did anything inhumane.

And yet Purebloods like Neville's family got away with throwing him out a window, and no one saw this as inhumane? He was a bloody child!

Harry only hoped that he would still be classed as a wizard...for he knew for a fact that non-wizards were not allowed a wand.

"No point thinking about these things yet," he mumbled, turning to Hedwig as she flew to the window "What is it girl?"

A moving van was slowly parking into the driveway of the house Vernon had said was being sold to 'immigrants' and from what Harry could see, another three vans were trying to find parking space a few houses down.

None owned a car, but Harry could see them complaining about it anyway.

He watched with fascination as both men and women helped carry furniture inside half an hour later. The person who was instructing where things should be placed was a tall dark skinned (and rather good looking) woman with long black hair, and if he had to say what was her most attractive feature, he would choose her eyes; sea blue.

A strange, yet beautiful combination.

She looked up as if somehow knowing he was staring at her, smiled and waved happily causing Harry to do the same but with less vigour. If he could, he would blush.

Now, the next two to walk out (more like the elder pushed out) the younger man from the back of one of the moving vans (who then made a dramatic response to the sudden sunlight) walked towards the young woman. One was bald and had a tattoo covering part of his face, the other...

Was blond….

That was the first thought that hit Harry 'blond?'

Shaking his head, he watched as the youngest seemed to argue about something, shaking his head and almost snarling the word 'school' it was obvious what they were talking about after that.

It was when he turned towards Harry's direction that Harry thought time had stopped; Purple eyes 'Now that is something I have never seen before' he thought in astonishment, not knowing the other was having similar thoughts to his green ones. Smiling nervously, Harry waved and mouthed a small 'hello', trying to be polite and hoping that he was as nice as the woman.

He seemed to stare for a few seconds before quickly turning around, completely ignoring Harry's greeting.

The elder male just nodded at and raised his hand once in greeting. Harry was promptly greeted by…an albino boy? Gosh, the Dursleys were NOT going to shut up about this, he could sense it.

Harry then felt his social awkwardness spiking up as he gave into urge and backed out of his window, which in response, fogged up unnaturally.

With a withering sigh he turned to his bed, feeling tired from all of his previous reading, and uncomfortable sleep pattern, he began to rest.


	2. Awaken the Beast

**Author's Important Note:**

**Look, if you go to my profile, you can see my various reasons for inactivity, and this is my way of trying to "get back into things,". This is my 2nd collab with The-Living-Shadow and operates under the same lines as most of my fanfic. Yaoi, M for Future Content, Crossover, Dont Like - Dont Read. Simple.**

**Forgive me, I'm trying to get back to normal. I'd lose patience with myself too - starting and stopping on everything. But Escapism is likely to come next, so just..bare with me..us, please?**

**R&R**

* * *

><p>Chapter Two<p>

Staring out at the cloudless sky, he shifted back and forth on the swing. Harry Potter stared out the largely vacant park – the kids conveniently moved their ball game away from his general area and left him comfortably alienated. Three days had passed since he read the book on Frost that Dumbledore had sent, and he'd been too wary to think more into the depth of his power since.

He took some time out to get out of the house and think more when his lukewarm bath had begun to lose it's appeal, and in a flash of a moment, had turned to a slurry of semi-crushed ice. Harry hadn't even realized it until he'd awoken in the tub to be surrounded by it.

It was that incident which had led him to unwillingly turn back to this newfound power.

The only upside he found to it, was that his ice-creams would never melt. Now, Harry was reasonably smart, maybe not book-smart like Hermione, but he wasn't dumb either. He understood that if even a fraction of what Frost could do was true, then he needed to get a better sense of what the hell he was doing.

Dumbledore couldn't provide much help, and stated as much when Harry mailed him for more help. The True Tale of Frost was the only published record, and the last elemental was him too, and decades had passed since, so there was little knowledge to be gained.

He could remember Dumbledore's words within the second letter quite well: 'trial and error, Harry, after all, the Ministry can't keep an eye on a trace that isn't there'.

Harry figured that meant his rather strange elemental abilities didn't have a Ministry trace on them, like his wand did, and could therefore go undetected. Dumbledore had essentially egged on that he self-discover, but to keep his environment in mind as he did, and they'd probably work on whatever he gained control of when he got back to Hogwarts. The Headmaster was not a man to sit on his laurels, stroking his beard and doing naught. Not all the time, anyway. Harry was ninety percent sure the Headmaster was probably following up leads on anything the legacy of Frost left behind, it would probably take a while though, as nearly all of it was likely to be lost to the decades.

Harry stopped the swing with his feet scraping against the concrete and jumped off, and decided to walk out of the park until the feeling of kid's staring left. He decided there wasn't much else to do, he could experiment in the bath tub with his powers, but on a larger scale, he'd have to find an empty area with a thick body of water. He wanted to leave the park quickly too, he felt weirdly watched even though everyone was making an effort to ignore him.

As he was contemplating the local area, thinking intensely, he was diverted to a colourful scene from the new neighbours. Looking onto the lawn of the newly rented house, he could see an unhappy bronze-skinned boy – the one who had blanked him from the window, weeding with little success.

But to be honest Harry couldn't bring himself to feel sorry for the other, he himself had been gardening since he was small and had to put up with keeping his aunt's garden in perfect upkeep (or get a smack across the face for not 'cutting the weeds right'), Plus the fact his new neighbour wasn't exactly nice to him, even after the day he moved in he would ignore Harry and even laugh with some of the kids teasing him.

Suddenly the sound of a door opening brought Harry out of his thoughts.

The young woman who smiled and waved at him walked casually out of the house, her long black hair tied neatly in a low pony tail as she wore a long white dress; beautiful compared to the other 'mothers and mother figures' living in Privet Drive.

Poor woman was probably going to have rumours spread about her because of it; Jealousy is a terrible thing.

"Here Marik," she handed the other a small glass of lemonade and without even saying thank you, he quickly gulped down the refreshing drink and just as quick, turned around to continue his chores.

This...Marik was a rude little git to family to it seemed.

With a sigh, she reached down to pick up the empty glass when her eyes met Harry "Oh Hello there" she smiled "You're that boy from a few days ago...Henry?"

"Harry" he responded causing her to laugh at her own mistake "I'm sorry," she apologised "The lady down the street...I must have misheard her,"

"Probably not" he sighed "-probably lied, old age most likely,"

"You're just trying to make me feel better," she laughed, causing Harry to join in before noticing the young boy glaring at him.

Clearing his throat Harry turned back to the woman, he politely asked "What's your name? when he realised she was frowning at the now glaring boy.

"It's Isis," she reached out to shake his hand; Harry stared at it and contemplated if he should let her anywhere near his skin.

He was freezing to the touch after all.

"There's nothing wrong with her you creep," the boy suddenly hissed, causing Isis to stare at him in shock "_Marik!"_

"Its fine," Harry quickly intervened "It's not you or anything, I have a condition that makes me really cold...you'll have a nasty surprise if you're not prepared," he had no idea how what he said offended Marik, but it made Isis laugh.

"Oh it can't be that bad," she said lightly, with a tentative smile and fighting to keep pity out of her eyes, as it probably wouldn't be received well.

"Oh um, it's not really, it just makes people really uncomfortable, um, here," he held out his hand and Isis shook it firmly, than held it for a moment. It was like first contacting ice – cool, but only after her hand lingered, she pulled it back, her smile never fading.

"Wow," she said simply "-you're freezing," to which Harry, with the irony of it all dancing in his mind, just laughed despite how awkward he felt. The first contact was fine, but feeling the boy's marble skin for prolonged time began to feel like holding ice for too long, cold to a point of slight numbness.

"Yeah, it's why I get called Frost, you know, as in Jack Frost," he snorted, eyes glancing to Marik for a moment, who returned his look with slight darkness, which Isis caught, but didn't comment on.

Isis chuckled but got the sense that Harry wasn't too partial to the name, but probably liked it over whatever else he was called. The boy was good at not letting on but Isis wasn't dense, she could instantly tell he was the type to get bullied, and probably had a lot slung at him.

"I suppose I'm used to it now," referring to both the name-calling and his condition, though still working on the latter.

"Ah, you seem like a good person, the name-calling won't last," insisted Isis, who caught Harry's secondary glance at Marik at the mention of being called names.

"Now, you wouldn't have happened to have already met my brother?" she said, deeply annoyed at Marik's behaviour and able to read Harry's body language.

Marik winced as he pulled out a weed and kept an ear out at the conversation, and a twinge of guilt hit his chest, he didn't know it was a medical condition. It was like picking on a kid in a wheelchair – an unspoken "not cool" thing to do, like an invisible line cross. The kid just seemed like a social loser and he assumed the snow and ice-punned name calling and bullying, was related to that, and some previous history he was unaware of as a new-arrival. If he had known why, he wouldn't have got involved at all, and the more he heard Harry talking amiably with his sister, the more of a douchebag he felt like. So the kid was socially awkward, it could be put down to that medical condition nobody gave him a break about, it wasn't Harry's fault. He seemed nice enough anyway, but at the time he hadn't really given a shit.

Now a seed of shame and guilt hit him inside, as he heard his rather angry sister beckon him from weeding.

He knew he was in trouble, and he deserved it.

Fros—no, Harry, bless his heart, was standing awkwardly between them as Isis slapped Marik upside the head and demand he apologize for his behaviour, which was surprising from his usually calm and collected sibling.

"N—No, it's okay Isis, really, I don't mind," he put on his best smile, but he was sure it wasn't working, and was only egging Isis further and making the seed of shame in Marik grow.

Isis stopped snapping at Marik, mercifully and looked at Harry.

A peek of a scar underneath handsome black bangs was briefly revealed as the socially awkward boy tilted his head to the side in confusion.

Glassy emerald eyes looked over rectangular frames, radiating an innocent confusedness.

"You don't have to make a big fuss, it's okay, everybody does it, err – calls me names and stuff, it's okay," he smiled and nodded with a false enthuse.

A bit dazed on the insistence that somebody actually apologize to him, Harry shared his muse aloud without realizing it fully.

"I mean, everybody does it. I think it's 'cause they think they're better then me," he just shrugged, as if it made it alright.

Harry looked to Marik, surprised to see reluctant shame on his face, as the lavender-eyed boy refused to meet his stare.

Harry almost snapped at the pity that radiated from Isis after he said that, he didn't mean for it to sound so self-deprecating and sad, like a victim accepting punishment. It was just how things were, and he was used to it being that way, it was all he knew.

Harry quickly tried to damage control on the situation by downplaying how little he thought of himself, Isis probably thought he was some depressed little victim or something with no self-esteem.

"It doesn't mean it's true, of course," he said, hesitatingly putting some confidence to it.

Marik, without further prodding, blurted out his apology, not looking Harry directly in the eye, and rather at his glasses.

"You didn't have to apologize, and Isis it's fine, you didn't have to make him, I appreciate what you're trying to do, but honestly," he turned back to Marik and let loose some of the anger he'd kept pent in his mind, as he had before the DoM, and verbalised it.

"Look, you're not apologizing because you know only bloody saddos go around picking on people, it's because you know I'm…I've got a condition. You feel bad for picking on the kid who has something wrong with 'em, well, keep your apology; because I don't need pity – and I especially don't need it from someone like you! Who goes around looking down their nose at people anyway," he said stoically.

"My messed up hypothalamus shouldn't have any bearing on whether you want to be nice to me all of a sudden, and Isis, I know you're trying to make him do the right thing, I get that. I just don't want, or need, pity. I'd even prefer you being an asshole to me like you have this past week, just don't give me this fake-apology rubbish," said Harry, turning to Isis and leaving a stunned Marik in his place.

"It was lovely meeting you though Isis, but please don't fuss about it. I hope this doesn't make it awkward," he laughed uncomfortably "-there's more to me then being Frost, and there's probably more to your brother then being a bully,"

"I should probably rush off though and start on dinner before my uncle gets back from work, if you need any help around, I know this place inside and out, just call," he said as he took his leave.

Isis nodded and said her goodbyes and turned to her still stunned brother.

"You do know, you deserved that,"

* * *

><p>His bloody body temperature would put out the flames or make it so weak it was pathetic, so having the gas mark on full; Harry carefully cooked the bacon and eggs with awkward hand movements so he wouldn't accidentally freeze the food. His power was so out of hand it frustrated him.<p>

His Aunt watched warily from the dining room table; she would not cook her husband's meal, but she had no problem in watching the 'freak' (as she dubbed him) suffer as he tried to get everything perfect.

Petunia Dursley was a rubbish housewife who could only sew (which even then was a pointless talent in the Dursleys house, since she would instantly buy Dudley brand new clothes whenever he would rip or gain a hole in current ones. The same with Vernon…)

All Harry received was Dudley's old clothes.

Which even then he had to cut and sew himself (since his Aunt would 'forget' where some holes were)... Just last week she shrieked at him for cutting up Dudley's old designer clothes which she paid two hundred and fifty-nine pounds for (ignoring the fact she was planning on throwing them in the bin, until she heard someone whisper to her friend that Harry's clothes looked 'cheap and nasty'.

Luckily though Harry had gained some weight and filled some of his clothes with his growing muscles, but it still looked like he had some sort of eating disorder with how baggy they appeared on him.

Thank God for belts.

It made the winds around him, make Harry appear all the more fragile, as clothes fluttered from the breeze around his lithe figure.

Harry decided to give the kids one less thing to tease him about and try to fix them.

He wasn't a fashionista and he didn't care at all as long as it looked decent and he didn't resemble an orphan stereotype.

He pulled out some washed jackets, and all the jeans he owned, half of them barely fit, he did his best to find fitting belts for them, and quickly abused the clothes with various tears.

Harry realized he could probably get away with leaping on the punk-clothes bandwagon and just put slits into the jeans, and wear off the shoulder shirts in layers, or a jacket over everything, the neighbours would stop whispering.

...Then probably go to criticizing how "un-gentlemanly" it looked, but he hardly had much to work with, so he armed himself with scissors and resumed cutting.

It was as he was doing this, that his wand fell from his pocket, he stopped cutting it and picked it up, the thing had finally gone bone-white after days of lightening wood. The inside didn't feel warm like it used to, despite having phoenix feather inside of it. Shutting his eyes briefly, Harry tried to feel if the phoenix feather was in there.

Then, his powers detected it, he just felt it – ice, in the inside of his wand, frost, eclipsing a leaf-ish feather shape.

He had frozen his wand, and his magic seemed to agree with this change. Even his wand had to change to accept what had happened to him, and his desire to change his ill-fitting clothes did little to subdue the feeling that it was a fruitless act. That no matter what, his social alienation could only ever increase.

It felt lonely, and every part of him worried about whether it'd be like this at Hogwarts, he'd been worshiped and then shunned in the blink of an eye many times before, and he was sure _the coldness, _that haunted him like a dark cloud would do this again. It was working in the muggle world and he was never popular there to begin with, so it said a lot.

Then he had to go and shout at the only muggle that had the decency (if you could call it that) to apologize. Harry noted he had about as much social charisma as Ron does when he's eating. That was another thing, would his friends even stand to be around him anymore? The coldness made him feel like a dementor in everything but name some-days, the way it repulsed people...

The fact that is was cold, stand-alone ice - water in one of it's most difficult forms seemed to add it's own little kick in the teeth. The more you think of ice as a power, the less surprising it is, that the wielder would be a lonely, 'cold' person. Harry was, for lack of a better phrase, his own tired cliche.

So cold, and so lonely, he no longer wondered if it would be this way at Hogwarts, he wondered if it'd be this way for the rest of his life.

He could understand how the original Frost, went as mad and as bitter as he did. Jerking away from his thoughts he decided to go into the bath tub again, and this time, he was determined not to freeze it.

* * *

><p>It was, in retrospect, easier said then done. Thinking of heat didn't really seem to do much, and neither did yelling at the ice to go away as he sat naked in the freezing tub.<p>

Ice _was_ water dammit, he should be able to control it in this form.

Harry shut his eyes and tried to make himself warm instead, if it was his new power making his body cold, then maybe if he made himself realize heat, the ice would leave too. All he had to do was try to not throw himself out of the bath if he succeeded, and felt the sting of sitting in an ice-bath as a normal person. He found his hand warming, but that was the extent of it, so he stopped and sighed.

With a more relaxed approach, he stared deeply at the ice, thinking of water freezing in reverse as it would melt away into it's soothing natural form.

His thoughts were blindly one-tracked as he felt at ease with his power for once, like a king shifting his place to comfortableness on his throne. Exhaling, he let victory wash over him as he felt water swimming around his thigh.

"At least one good thing's happened," he said to himself, allowing a smile to grace his features.

It was the knock on the bathroom door that made his good mood disappear, the water he had managed to control turning to ice in a second when his aunt's voice suddenly screeched from the outside. Harry couldn't help but seethe.  
>"Bo-Harry, come down stairs. I want to talk to you," he could hear the quiver in her voice (plus, how she forced herself to say his name instead of 'boy'), Harry could tell she wanted something of him.<p>

Or like what happened before his second year of school; business associates of Vernon's, so in other words he would have to stay in his room the entire day.  
>As if he he really went anywhere else...<p>

"Nothing ever changes," he mumbled, forcing his body out of the bath, quickly drying and dressing himself, he made his way downstairs. For some strange reason, his uncle was staring at his cup of tea, refusing to look up whilst his aunt stared at his eyes with fake confidence.

"We need you to behave," she stated, causing him to stare in confusion; why would he have to 'behave' when she didn't even say the reason why? Voicing his thoughts, he stared curiously as his uncle seemed to shift anxiously on the settee, causing Petunia to clear her throat "Your...Aunt Marge is coming to stay for a week,"

"You're...joking right?" he almost demanded "-after what she did last time? Do you honestly think I will be able to control myself once she lets her mouth run? Not to mention her fucking dog!"  
>"Harry! Do not talk like that! You must control yourself, the neighbours already know,"<p>

"If you're so worried about the neighbours why tell them in the first place?" he sneered, causing her face to turn a vibrant red in anger "-and what if she sets her dog on me and makes me bleed? You know for a fact that blood is water...and WHAT happens to water around me? Do you really want to explain why her dog's mouth has been torn apart by shards of ice? Or why he has frost bite? Not to mention my magi-"

"-Do not mention that word in my house!" his uncle roared "And I don't bloody care about your...condition," Vernon spat the word 'condition' as if it was some kind of disease "You will control yourself or mark my words you will be living on the streets!"

Glaring, Harry stormed out of the house, ignoring his uncle's calls about 'not being finished with him yet', he slammed the front door in anger, taking deep breaths to calm himself down.  
>The last thing he needed was to lose control of his magic when he could hardly control his ice abilities.<p>

"I hate my life," and as he said it, frost gathered at the keyhole of the door behind him, encouraging angry shouts from Vernon as frost began to creep up the door, but Harry was too mad to care. He needed to clear his head so he decided to make his way to Miss Figg's house and maybe play with the cats. Cute animals could make everything better, or at least, feel that way. He also needed to see her about contacting Dumbledore, in regards to his nightmares as of late.

* * *

><p>Harry found himself mildly surprised and slightly intruded upon as he saw a white-haired lad leaving some milk out for Miss Figg's cats. It was one of the new neighbors, though Harry hadn't the pleasure of actually interacting with him yet. Prepared to carry on walking and just detour away from the house, Harry found himself being stared at as the boy looked up to see him. Well, it was too late to turn back now.<p>

"You're that boy in the window?" Harry couldn't help but shrug awkwardly; who liked being reminded they were watching someone? It made them appear like a pervert or some sort of weirdo.

He _had_ to see Miss Figg, and the lad was a diversion, it looked like things had to wait.

"Um yeah, I'm Harry, Harry Potter," he said, glancing briefly over his shoulder. He hadn't felt at ease since he'd woken up this morning, for a start he hadn't remembered any of his nightmare, and his letters didn't seem to reach Dumbledore anymore since the owl restraint increase. He wanted to go to Miss Figg to get her to directly contact the Order and hopefully Professor Dumbledore.

"I'm Ryou Bakura, I uh, just moved to the area with the others," he smiled awkwardly.

Harry's thoughts driffted to that boy from yesterday 'Jerk' he though sourly, but refrained himself from asking about him. It wasn't Ryou's fault he had a prat as a friend.

"So... how're you finding it here?" asked Harry casually.

"It's alright I guess, a bit boring but whatever," said Ryou truthfully, shrugging.

Hesitantly, he continued, measuring Harry's reactions as he spoke.

"I er...heard you already met Marik, seems you two got off on the wrong foot, huh?" said Ryou.

Harry nodded awkwardly and resisted the urge to comment further on Marik in a derogatory fashion, as it lacked class and he didn't want to make an enemy of Ryou either.

His reaction caused Ryou to smile almost nervously "Don't worry-" he insisted "-I know Marik can be a little...forward at times. He's just got to get used to a person before he...well, acts nice," Harry snorted, it was hard to picture the other being friendly.

"You don't have to make up excuses for him," he smirked causing Ryou to take a step back "I'll only belive him when he means it, and not because he knows he's made a mistake"

"A-a mistake?"

"I don't forgive easily," responded Harry.

"O-oh," he shifted nervously from foot to foot, jumping in fright when something brushed up against one of them "You've been feeding her cats?"

"I...always put something out for them, even though their not mine. I love cats," admitted Ryou.

Ryou stopped stroking the kitten that had brushed against the ankle of his shoe and stood up fully. There was something to be noted about Harry, definitely.  
>He did feel sort of off, it wasn't a bad thing, but something wrung delicate about him but he couldn't quite pinpoint what. It was probably the medical condition that he heard Marik mention, poor kid. Whatever it was though, did little to deteriorate the boy's features or general state.<p>

He looked on the tired side, but a strange radiance was ever present as the wind invaded the boy's shredded clothes and made them flutter against his lean figure in the slight breeze. If Harry felt it, he definitely didn't show it. There was something effervescent in the air, whilst being cool and Harry remaining collected, that Ryou couldn't look away.

Suddenly the cats seemed unsettled and they moved closer to the boys, Harry noticed it but didn't really comment, simply glad that the felines didn't mind his cold company.

"Erm... did you come over for anything particular? I don't wanna get in the way," said Ryou, glancing to Miss Figg's doorway.

Harry thought of his nightmare change and in reality the matter was rather small, compared to everything going on in general, so it could probably wait.

"It doesn't really matter," he shrugged, kneeling down to stroke one of the cats whom jumped at the cold of his fingers, but strangely instead of moving away the cat seemed to force itself into his hand; silted eyes stared into the bushes in fear.

Harry frowned curiously; what on earth was up with these cats? Seeing him frown, Ryou got completely the wrong idea "I'm not annoying you am I? I ramble sometimes and even then I can get rather boring-"  
>"-No it's not you" Harry insisted, monitoring to all four cats with his hand "It's them, their acting really weird" he slowly moved one hand in front of one of the cats faces, all it did was bow and look under, not once did it look anywhere else but the bushes.<p>

"That...is strange," commented Harry.

Suddenly the front door to Mrs. Figgs house opened causing all the cat to dash inside, tripping Ryou over to fall awkwardly on the ground with a startled cry.  
>"Are you alright?"<p>

Harry asked, quickly walking over to the other, Ryou nodded shakily pushing himself up and grasping the offered hand.  
>He flinched back with a startled cry, starring at the hand with shock; freezing.<br>"I-Im sorry" Harry mumbled, quickly putting both hands into his trouser pockets whilst staring at the ground in frustration; another screw up with a neighbor but this time it was his fault.

"Harry dear, is that you?" Mrs Figg asked, smiling when she spotted Harry standing awkwardly next to a still shocked Ryou.

"Yeah, I was coming over to see you actually, ur, just a minute," said Harry awkwardly, turning to Ryou.

"I probably should start wearing gloves," he added sheepishly.

Ryou blinked out of his stupor and laughed at the comment lightly, shaking his head in disagreement.

"You're not that bad Potter," he said airily, "-I just wasn't expecting it," he took a limp hold of Harry's skinny wrist to prove a point and let it stay there.

"I don't get why everyone's making such a big deal about it. It's not like you're a freezer for God's sake, you're just a little...cool," he shrugged.

"Well, that's the first time anybody has called me 'cool' and meant it in any way," joked Harry, Ryou snorted and took it all in good humor, the kid didn't seem that bad to him. Whatever dispute he and Marik had was probably minor.

"It's just that nobody really expects it, and it's not like you can help it, it isn't even that bad though," said Ryou, awkwardly letting Harry's arm drop.

"Thanks," said Harry, equally awkwardly. Miss Figg had thankfully gone to rounding up the cats as they were tying up their conversation and simply kept an ear at, faintly amused at the socially awkward teenagers on her lawn.

"You're uh..the first person to say something nice about it actually. It was nice meeting you, I'll see you around yeah?" asked Harry cautiously, almost as if unsure that he was actually getting a muggle friend for the first time.

"Yeah, I'll be hanging about, don't worry," after a million dollar grin, the boy turned and left as Miss Figg beckoned Harry inside. The truth had to come out sooner or later.

As the door to the 'cat lady's house shut, Harry forced himself to brush off the feeling that something else was watching him, it was probably due to the innumerable amount of cats. Yet something older then time, and as old as life, around since the first feeling seemed to be nestled within the atmosphere, distorting it around itself to blend seamlessly the trees of Miss Figg's garden.

Darkness hid the small area as a blur moved over a spider that had unfortunately crawled to the area. The spider became limp and seemed to be lost within the blades of grass, it's lifeless body gone.

A new Frost may have awakened, but so had something else.


	3. KNALS NAM

**Author's Important Note:**

**Look, if you go to my profile, you can see my various reasons for inactivity, and this is my way of trying to "get back into things,". This is my 2nd collab with The-Living-Shadow and operates under the same lines as most of my fanfic. Yaoi, M for Future Content, Crossover, Dont Like - Dont Read. Simple.**

**Forgive me, I'm trying to get back to normal. I'd lose patience with myself too - starting and stopping on everything. But Escapism is likely to come next, so just..bare with me..us, please? **

**R&R**

* * *

><p>Chapter Three<p>

Telling Miss Figg did very little to ease his nerves regarding his nightmares, he hadn't passed out before so it was something new. But Miss Figg did her best to comfort and reason that it was probably because he had failed to actually rest, and that passing out in bed wasn't that bad. He could have passed out, outside, which would have been of more concern. Nonetheless she agreed that Dumbledore needed to be informed and offered Harry some more tea and sympathy, which he decided to opt out of.

He had a feeling he should get back into his room anyway, being outside from it this long was making him anxious. Harry was starting to feel more like that each day, he put it down to his deteriorating social skills.

Saying his goodbyes, he left Miss Figg's house and began walking home.

A shiver went up his spine as he felt the unnatural breeze tickle him, shaking it off, he sped up his pace and quickly made his way into Number 4.

He hoped Mrs Figg would hurry and write her letter to the old headmaster; slow and sometimes forgetful due to her age, she sometimes forgot to do things straight away since she liked spending more time with her cats than with people, her mind would slip into other tasks rather than the ones that really needed to be done.  
>Like the one time she had to look after him, Harry was sitting outside her doorstep for most of the day, by the time she came back from her shopping trip, it was an hour before he had to go back to the dursleys. Her shopping was supposed to be Harry's dinner, she remembered she had to buy food, but just didn't remember why she was paying extra until five hours later she found herself apologising to a hungry and cold six year old.<p>

He could not help but feel that his efforts to alleviate his own worries were fruitless.

Harry wouldn't have been surprised if Dumbledore didn't respond to him on the off chance that Ms Figg even did deliver his letter in the first place.

* * *

><p>Now, Albus Dumbledore was a smart wizard and some would argue one of the brightest of the age even as he got older. But there was things even he did not know or at the very least, was unsure of. He wasn't ashamed of what he didn't know, since it was a wiser man acknowledges that they don't know everything. But now was one of the times that Albus wished he did.<p>

There was so much legend and exaggeration and carefully woven lies into the tale that had become a myth, of the existence of Jack Frost that he wasn't sure what was true and what was not. The sprites of the respective elements had remained quiet, the youngest that had permeated the Forbidden Forest hadn't known what Albus was asking about, and he continued asking until news reached the older ones and just like that, the sprite population of the Forbidden Forest disappeared.

It seemed they wanted even the idea of total elemental control to be lost to the ages.

He needed to know if Harry would be in any more danger, because even he didn't know the extent to which the fire sprites had gone to assure the eternal death of Jack Frost and his power...

Dumbledore knew that sometimes ambition could precede death, and magic could make some things last forever.

Deep down in the pit of his stomach, the wizened man hoped that no ill would come to Harry in the manner that it did for Frost, because of their power. Most importantly he wanted to be sure that the fire sprites would not see Harry Potter as they saw Jack Frost when they realized the power was back.

* * *

><p>The best way to get over self-imposed depression was to be less introverted, well, that was the theory anyway and whilst a large amount of the depression wasn't self-caused, Harry tried it. He couldn't really help how the change in the nature of his nightmares had changed, in fact he hadn't even thought too much on it until he remembered Divination when he decided to flick through his textbooks until sleepy. Nowadays he was a mix of lethargic and depressed, which all together wasn't too strange except that it had to have been getting to him so badly, that he could barely remember when he dropped off to sleep.<p>

It was unusual because he had a habit of glancing at the well-used alarm clock before shutting his eyes to fall into Voldemort's grossly horrific excuse for a working mind that was plagued with more death, depravity and perverse urge to destroy then Harry would like to believe was possible.

Harry could no longer call sleep, sleep anymore, but was now likening it to passing out, and when he awoke it felt like he'd barely slept a wink. He began to have no recollection of his dreams, which, considering their previous nature would be a blessing.

Except that it felt like he wasn't dreaming at all, and more like he'd cut the process all together. In fact he'd dare to say he was more exhausted with the act of passing out than he would doing day-to-day activities.

Then Harry began to wonder if he was even sleeping anymore, but whenever he awoke it was more then a few minutes simply breezing by, but instead hours which stretched into disturbing gaps of missing time.

And Harry _still_ hadn't heard shit from Dumbledore.

When he finally felt like he'd gotten actual sleep in a day-time nap, that had unfortunately taken place of his body's forced will through collapsing into sleep in the garden, Harry peeled himself off the soil. That's what it had to have been, but what disturbed him was that he was totally blanking out on when he'd actually gotten to the back of the house in the first place. After visiting Miss Figg, he was certain he'd fallen asleep on his bed.

"I've had the best sleep in ages and it had to be in a pile of weeds in the bloody garden," he grumbled sourly to himself as he brushed dirt off the shoulder.

Arching his back and stretching his arms to the sound of pleasurable clicks, Harry let out an exhale of cold air and began to walk off the stiffness in his legs.

Harry walked off calmly, deciding to go back to the park as it was brimming with activity that he'd deviate away from normally. It was just that, as of late and considering what had just happened, perhaps he'd spent a little too much time alone for his own good. The sky seemed to be a mix of beautiful hues, he must have slept the day away, but as the hours clocked on, he realized it was the dawn of a new morning.

"Excuse me," Harry stopped someone in the street, too alarmed by his inner realization to be his antisocial self.

"Yes?" queried the man, heading for work from the look of the briefcase in his hand.

"Do you have the date? I've uh... just got back from ...a long trip," he lied through his teeth as the question had put a concerned look on the gentleman's face until he added the explanation.

"Oh, it's Wednesday," he said, leaving Harry to his thoughts.

Had he really slept in the garden that long? Sure his sleep was good but not enough to constitute the rest of yesterday and the following night, he didn't feel anywhere near as well-rested as that. In fact, it felt like he'd only really slept for little over an hour, and his throat felt sandpaper-y, the kind of feeling he had when he ill.

"This isn't good, he mumbled to himself, making a beeline away from the park gate and heading back to the house, realizing he had to shower, change, brush and try to figure out what happened.

Something didn't feel quite right at all.

* * *

><p>The Order was doing their very best to look after Harry despite all of the worried bustle about the steep change in the nature of his natural state. Even with the blood-wards the boy still needed extra watching. But something had weakened the barrier, none of them - not even Dumbledore was quite sure as to what, or how it was even possible, but it felt like something was driving scratches into the only protection Harry could rely on fully. It was so minor that it didn't even bare worrying about until the weakening continued, and if it carried on, it'd soon be reduced to nothing but a thin film of magic that Voldemort could walk through. Albeit it'd hurt, burn and sear slightly, but a determined Dark Lord would soldier through, and that's what Dumbledore feared.<p>

They stopped every owl, even school owls for the time being, and hoped it'd be enough for now until they thought of a way to aid the weakening blood wards.

But they didn't for see a threat that wasn't strictly wizardly, as Harry was given a nearly-forgotten letter that had come for him, and oddly enough, it was through the muggle post.

And it wasn't from Hermione.

It wasn't from anyone, it didn't have a stamp, it didn't have a return address, and Petunia nearly forgot to give it Harry all together.

All in all, the whole thing was disconcerting, because all that was in the envelope was a sheet of white paper that had absolutely nothing on it, save for a few letters that looked like they were typed by an old typewriter.

Harry blinked owlishly - a typewriter? People still used those?

Maybe it was a computer using a typewriter font but something about it told his intuition that it was likely authentic.

"What in Merlin's name is this?" he said to himself, wincing as Petunia dropped a spoon she was washing, at the mention of the famous wizard.

The letters were a jumbled nonsensical mess that failed to resemble words let alone a phrase or sentence, it simply read:

' ** KNALS NAM****'**

Tucking the strange thing away, he thought back to earlier, about how he'd ended up in the garden for hours and resolved to get some proper sleep. He put the strange letter down to bizarre happenstance and decided to put thoughts of Voldemort and 'missing time' to rest, at least for a little while.

* * *

><p>Now Marik Ishtar wasn't the most caring soul in the world, and Ryou wasn't the most astute, but both of their brain power combined could deduce that something was up with their weird neighbor. Ryou was mindful that Harry and Marik weren't on good terms, but he was aware that the Egyptian had at least tried to apologize, though knowing him it probably wasn't a tactful one.<p>

"I was tactful! He just didn't accept my stupid apology so I'm not going to grovel," he snapped.

Ryou held up his hands defensively, "Fine, I believe you Marik. But he seemed like a nice enough kid right?"

Marik mulled it over for a minute. The more he thought about it the more he felt a little weird over being angry at Potter in the first place. Upon thinking about it, it was obvious that the lad was defensive, and considering how people treated and spoke of him, it was no surprise. The guy probably thought he wasn't being genuine and just saying it to please Isis, or even just take the piss because nobody had probably apologized before.

Or, maybe Potter knew he meant it, and just didn't know how else to react.

"I'll...go around later maybe," sighed Marik "-then we drop it, okay?"

"Look he's a good guy, I was thinking maybe we all hang out. I mean, everyone else here is either under ten or in some kind of gang already," shrugged Ryou.

"Like that fat kid in the park?" said Marik bluntly, to which Ryou winced.

"That's Harry's cousin,"

To which Marik didn't say anything at all, until Ryou quickly added.

"But they don't get along I don't think. So I wouldn't worry about it,"

Well, maybe all hope wasn't lost on Harry Potter.

* * *

><p>When Harry finally got up, he felt significantly more rested but still a bit ill, the ice around his ceiling melted and woken him up with warm drops of water splashing onto his nose. He had dreamed this time except the less he remembered the better, he felt frighteningly warm for the first time in a while and had to cool off. He didn't know whether to feel irritated or not that it took a dream of an adult nature to get him feeling heat again, or the fact that he didn't remember too much of it at all.<p>

Throwing his book on the tale of Frost to the floor as he kicked off his bed covers, he swore colorfully wondering just how much things could fuck up internally.

He coughed slightly as his throat felt the alien soreness again. Harry made his way for a cold shower, a change of clothes and a freshen up as he realized it was now midday. By passing out or whatever, he'd completely messed up his internal sleep pattern - if you could really say he had one to begin with.

Sitting down on the sofa to watch TV - a new privilege, Harry coughed more and muted the volume as Aunt Petunia called for him.

"Boy! Err-Harry! There's someone at the door for you!" she said awkwardly, quickly trying to fix her verbal slip as the foreign boy at the door narrowed his eyes at her.

Harry stood up and coughed more, and before his mind could really piece together what he was seeing, he tripped back into the vase on the stand next to the sofa. Aunt Petunia's eyes widened as she heard the sound of it shattering and a panicked yell.

"I-I just coughed a load of blood!"

A masculine shout of mortification richoechted throughout the house, while Marik and Petunia stared at each other awkwardly until Petunia quickly left to see to her shattered mink vase.

Marik let himself in a-midst the chaos and walked into the front room, having disregarded whatever manners he was supposed to adhere to when visiting.

"Potter? Is everything...alright?" and as he peeked his head into the living room, he stared awkwardly as Petunia swept up the vase bits mournfully, and walked straight past Harry Potter, who was looking into the palms of his hands in mortification.

"No, no not really," he answered numbly, and then he fell back onto the sofa and stared aimlessly at the wall.

"Maybe you should see a doctor?" suggested Marik hesitantly, stretching over to the coffee table and taking tissues from it, and wiping the blood from Harry's hands since the boy was too stoic - too weirded out, to even do it himself.

"No...no.." said Harry faintly, remembering the chaos of Order members obliviating everyone who had seen to him previously, due to his medical anomalies.

From what Marik briefly picked up - it seemed that Harry's relatives or at least his aunt didn't care very much for him. He felt his insides clench even more in guilt, he didn't _want _to feel pity for Harry but the more he learned, the more he felt himself reminded of a forsaken _Carrie._

_"_Maybe we should go for a walk, and get you some water," said Marik finally.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" asked Harry, when the boy had returned from the kitchen with a glass of water.

"-well you said it yourself, there's more to me then 'being a bully'," admitted the Egyptian, and slowly but surely, Harry returned a tentative smile.

"Yeah, I think so,"


	4. Potter's Watcher

**Author's Important Note:**

**Yaoi, M for Future Content, Crossover, Dont Like - Dont Read. Simple.**

**R&R**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Four<strong>

Unknown P.O.V

It was encouraging to see the ice eclipsing bits of water wrapping around his room as the boy's power grew. It was equally disconcerting to see the other 'thing' had started though, what He - They, feared as they had seen the boy cough blood in the night. The messages had begun.  
>He could see the bags in the face of Potter. His sleep was being stolen from him, and when the boy had collapsed in the garden, he had half a mind to pick him up and put him into his bed, but it would raise questions, too many.<p>

For now he had to sit, watch, protect and wait for the right moment, before it was too late. His community was in uproar, and once again divided as it had been so many years ago in era of Frost, fear was rampant - and rightly so.

Even when sitting in shadows, watching, the man could not help but feel the familiar chill that was always so detailed in the stories from the Elders, and was shocked to find it was true. It felt like the entire town of Surrey was earmarked by something far darker then himself, and that thought, was terrifying.

* * *

><p>"We got off on the wrong foot," said Harry finally.<p>

"I know," said Marik, walking Harry back home after they strayed out for some fresh air after his little episode.

"-and maybe I was a little too defensive," added Harry.

"-You were," butted in Marik curtly.

"-and not accepting your apology made me feel like a bit of a git," he admitted. After all, not many even tried to apologize before and mean it. Sure it was for the wrong reasons but the Egyptian seemed to feel honest guilt, and he realized he couldn't ask a person to change their entire personality in a blink, to realize the error of their egotistical ways, just because he'd offended him.

"Which you are," said Marik, somewhat playfully.

"But you're also kind of a dick," said Harry bluntly.

There was a momentary silence into Marik let out his stifled laugh.

"Agreed, want to be friends?"

* * *

><p>Harry was sure this wasn't how normal people socialized, but with his condition and reputation hanging around him like a bad smell, he couldn't afford to turn down the opportunity for new friends. Marik had also shown a slightly more human side as well. When nobody had really taken note or cared when he coughed out blood a moment ago, perhaps he was a little quick to completely write this Ishtar off as having no redeemable qualities.<p>

"So...coughing blood, is that a normal part of your...thing?" he asked, rather non-eloquently.

"No, it's the first time it's happened," admitted Harry.

"And... you aren't worried?" drawled Marik skeptically.

"I'm alive aren't I?" shrugged Harry helplessly.

"Shouldn't you... I don't know, see a doctor?" drawled the Egyptian.

"I gave up on doctors a long time ago," said Harry in an equally droll tone.

They went on in silence for a moment until Marik thought of something, after carefully considering the rather distasteful attitude the Dursley's had to their nephew, their -sick- nephew. It would also help him somewhat atone for how nasty he'd been.

"Would you like to stay at ours for a bit? Your relatives seem a bit..." he trailed off before he said something Isis would have clipped him up the ear for. She would have been okay with the invite, in fact, after hearing tales from Arabella Figg and meeting them herself, she'd been trying to think of the best way to invite him over to stay, for a while now. Harry's eyes seemed to light up and die at the same time, as if immediately ruling out the prospect. There was something he needed to get out in the open if he possibly wanted friends, and that's if they accepted him, -magic, his magic, Frost magic.

"I'd cause problems," said Harry quietly.

"My sister's okay with you and you get on with Ryou, my brother doesn't say much, it won't be a problem-" began Marik until shushed by a smooth gesture.

"You should come to my room, that might explain things better," sighed the boy, walking up the stairs when they had got back from their walk.

When Marik saw Harry's room dripping wet with water, window frozen and ice eclipsing the doorknob after Harry shut the door, it made a small mote of sense.

Harry had his own weird kind of magic.

"Right...what are you exactly?"

* * *

><p>To Harry's surprise, Marik had taken it into stride, even when he pulled out his <em>moving<em> textbooks to prove the blunt statement.

He was a wizard.

A broom-riding, spell-casting, robe-wearing, potion-making, wand-waving bloody _wizard._

Oh and from the book and Harry's brief explanation, the decedent of Jack Frost.

"I think I'm going to sit down now," said Marik wryly, his head spinning. He had a lot to tell the others, definitely.

"That's...not the half of it, I'm not a normal wizard either," _I'm the bloody Chosen One._

"Now, why doesn't that surprise me?" came the response.

* * *

><p><em>Unknown's P.O.V<em>

Good, he's being protected by other beings of Shadow, but they're no match for _It. _I must send a message to the others, the beast is growing stronger, powers alone and with the Shadow wielders, the Dark Lord and the _beast _will surely kill him. If one does not embroil us in war, the other will hunt us like dogs, regardless the boy must survive to take them out. Both of them, and he is not strong enough.

But I can fix that...the other's must be informed before the beast gets too close.

The boy must be turned.

* * *

><p>Ryou was skeptical, but it had quickly faded when Harry's book nearly bit him as he unpacked into the guest room.<p>

"-careful. The Monster Book of Monsters likes to bite. I call him Bitey," said Harry with a grin.

"-a quill? Parchment? Where the hell do you still get this stuff?" said Marik with a relaxed laugh.

"The Wizarding World gateway is through their shopping district, it's a little...backward, technology doesn't work in magic due to the heavy magic static," explained Harry, as he took out his Potion's homework.

"-that's no excuse not to have heard of a ballpoint pen," retorted Marik.

"Is that your wand?" asked Ryou curiously at the holstered and packed wooden stick.

"Yeah but it's got a trace on it, no underage magic out of school or I get expelled. Well...with a wand anyway," grinned Harry.

"-but you're like a celebrity in your world, don't you have privileges?" asked Ryou.

"Not particularly besides, the government is as fickle as the public, they love me one moment and hate me the next," sighed the wizard.

"Nice owl," said Ryou, changing the subject quickly, sensing a sore point.

"Yeah, that's Hedwig," who hooted proudly from her cage on the windowsill.

"Wizards use owls to send mail," laughed Harry "-I know, I know, it's basically a carrier-pigeon system..."

"-don't you lot have P.O boxes?" sighed Marik exasperatedly.

"Some don't," shrugged Harry "-some live in enchanted trunks-" he stopped at Marik's expression and gave him a sheepish look. Wizarding logic was hard to explain as it was largely non-existent.

* * *

><p>Harry Potter had come clean about everything, absolutely everything. He had no obligation to and was even breaking a law - a Statute of Secrecy in telling them, and when Ryou muttered his guiltiness to Marik, they both shared a look. Harry had come clean in order to make a proper friendship and not scare them off, he'd taken a massive risk and exposed himself for who he really was. Though they had no true understanding of the depths of Voldemort or the warclass war and celebrity status meaning in the Wizarding World, what Harry told them was enough to know he was putting trust in them.

A lot of freaking trust.

"Well, good news, you're not the only one with a kind of...thing," and with that, Marik had pulled out the Millennium Rod, and Ryou untucked the Millennium Ring from his shirt.

"We should explain from the beginning..."

* * *

><p><em>Unknown P.O.V<em>

I only just returned from that, foul, foul place that thing had taken me to. I cannot even remember it fully, nor do I want to, my core feels like it has been chewed like a piece of wet gum and spat out again. I thought I would not escape, but instead had to Shadow Travel by extremely dangerous means - by the shadow of a blade of grass. That's all that had existed in that skyless horrid place, ideally one travels using big shadows in which to cloak themselves, but there...was nothing. Like Death had kissed the world into blackness. I cannot even remember being taken in by that foul creature. I'm lucky in my semi-immortal life.

The only one of us who could possibly have withstood that would be an Elder, I underestimated the beast of Olde Legend.

I must contact Elder Phasir, he must be turned by an Old One, to even have a snowballs chance in Hell.

I returned to my post for the night though, and watched the boy from the trees, peering into the window of the guest room. Sleep child. You know not what is ahead of you. Poor child. You did not deserve this fate.


	5. Resurrection

_Future Slash._

_RESURRECTION__!_

_ DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter or YuGiOh_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Five<strong>

His head was spinning with the sheer amount of surreal news unloaded to him from his new friends in just one day, almost as much as their heads were as they came to terms with having an elemental wizard in their midst - an apparent celebrity at that. Eventually the topic of discussion changed to the frankly abysmal state of Potter's health - a topic of great discomfort for him, especially as he had no way of justifying it. He was also wary of professing intimate details about his nightmares that'd largely contributed to his lethargy and sleeping patterns. He doubted very much - Shadow magic history or no, that they could understand the true horror of sharing a mental connection with a Dark Lord that they had zero understanding of. He also didn't know quite how to explain his empty-mindedness that had befallen him recently at random times. It had come to a head, when Ryou had professed to seeing him waking up in Number 4's garden when he'd looked over the fence in search of a windblown card.

Harry was not in the manner of explaining himself and often was able to dodge inquiries he didn't want to answer, like back when Ron and Hermione would ask him about his summers at the Dursleys. This time however, he had two people pressing him for answers and neither one of them ready to let up.

Marik had insisted heavily that Harry tell them something because it was self-evident that things were not okay and that the friendship was going nowhere because half of the time, they barely saw Harry after the incident at Number 4.

Harry eventually snapped a little.

"It's nice you're concerned and stuff but I keep telling you nothing's wrong!" said Harry "-and I'm sick of you guys walking on eggshells around me like I'm some delicate little thing when I'm bloody well not!"

"We're sorry okay?" said Ryou testily "-it's just that when we see you, you always look worse then the last time and it's hard to think you're not..." he trailed off awkwardly.

"Sick," said Marik "- I mean, no offense, but you look like shit,"

There was a momentary silence until Harry relented under both of their pressing looks.

"It's nothing to do with the condition - I-I think," said Harry "-I've not been getting a lot of sleep-" Ryou snorted "-and I've been getting weird stuff in the mail and keep losing track of where I've been now and then," he frowned slightly "-I'm so tired I'm blacking out in random spots. The last good rest I had was in my flowerbeds,"

"-and what about the coughing blood thing?" said Marik "-that was scary,"

"That's not ever happened again and I'm not sure why it did in the first place, I think it was a one-off," Harry shrugged.

"And you still haven't seen a doctor?" said Ryou patiently.

"I have!" well...a healer "-they gave me stuff to help me sleep but that's about it. Other then the condition there was nothing else wrong with me apparently," said Harry, and after that, the tension lifted from the room.

"So you're definitely okay?" said Ryou, it felt like they were missing a beat, like there was still something Harry hadn't told them.

"Definitely," he lied.

* * *

><p>It took another two days for them to see Harry's behavior turn even more off and on the third day, Isis came in to tell Marik that Odion was "scraping your friend off the front lawn," and that Harry hadn't been drinking or anything, went to bed, and somehow woke up on their lawn.<p>

Marik proposed that maybe Harry was sleepwalking.

"I've never sleepwalked in my life!" protested Harry.

"-but you ended up next to a garden gnome this morning," butted in Ryou.

"I asked my sister, it's okay if you sleep here tonight and we'll keep an eye on your sleepwalking or whatever okay?" said Marik.

Harry nodded but still protested that he did not need watching over and that the sleepwalking had been a one-off. But after a lengthy debate began to etch dangerously towards the edge of an argument, Ryou didn't feel like he could diffuse the situation - because Marik actually sounded like he was in the right this time.

"You've been having a lot of 'one-offs' recently," bit out Marik "-the blood, the fainting, the sleepwalking," the list compounded together in a sentence made Harry wince.

"Your condition aside - and all the crazy wands and wizards shit to one corner, I'm starting to think there's something seriously wrong and that not even you know what it is," said Marik and the most painful part of that statement would be that he was entirely correct.

* * *

><p>Solaire - one of few equipped to watch both daily and nightly the development of Frost was more then concerned when his accomplice - Dhanke had come to him looking worse for wear. In fact, had you known Solaire, you'd be inclined to think he was unsettled by it - but if you truly knew the Old One's chief regent , you would know it was a cover for the fact he was absolutely terrified. Phasir - the most wizened and aged of them all despite the curse of his eternal youth remained doubtful of Solaire's proposal as he took over Dhanke's position of Frost's watcher.<p>

"I saw it Elder! I truly did, and for the first time in centuries I felt like I was worrying for my own immortality," said Dhanke, as terrified as a vampire would allow themselves to sound.

Solaire gave Dhanke a serious expression that silently probed him further, to tell Phasir what he told him.

"I went to the Dark Place,"

Now that unsettled Phasir far more then Dhanke's appearance or Solaire's claims.

"The Frost Child is dying Elder," said Dhanke.

Now, this Solaire had not been privy too. He always suspected Dhanke wasn't quite as comfortable expressing all of his findings to him, or maybe Dhanke suspected him of taking all the credit for the surveillance gathering if he did and passed it onto Phasir.

Phasir reclined back into his chair and gave a serious amount of thought to this as Dhanke sweated in his place.

"Does he suffer?" asked Phasir softly, looking at Solaire and Dhanke with narrowed red eyes.

"Yes Elder, he suffers dearly," said Dhanke quietly.

"He has been visited by the curse of blood," said Solaire, stepping forward beside his accomplice.

Phasir's worry was becoming noticeable as his grip tightened on the arms of his chair. Both of his prized inner council looked far more worried and concerned and scared then he'd seen in centuries of reign.

"Now he pains from the curse of missing time," memory loss - not remembering some things, or doing things and getting to places and having no idea how he got there.

"And yesterday, the boy was visited by the curse of dreamless sleep and awoke in the outdoors. It's calling for him now and he doesn't even know it," said Dhanke.

Toying with a decorative small hourglass trinket that hung from his neck, Phasir's eyebrows frowned and the worry turned to a look of cold and calculating.

"How is it that he remains so unaware, if so far into the stages of the Beast's call?" said the vampire.

"He rests with Old Souls, - two boys Elder One - their magic protects him temporarily," said Dhanke with some sense of relief "-Old Souls from the time of Ancients,"

"Greek brethren?" asked Phasir, surprised.

"Older Sire, Egyptian. The spirit of what feels like royalty not unlike your own and another so dark, so dark that it may rival the Beast's," said Dhanke excitedly.

"So the boy lives on borrowed time?" asked Phasir.

"As he always did Sire," said Solaire dryly.

"What of the other covens, do they know of this? Are they even aware of Frost and the Beast's awakening?" asked Phasir, turning to Solaire.

"They are aware of Frost's return - I believe there's been a leak, and they may be one on news of the Beast but I cannot be sure," admitted the regent.

The calculating vampire turned quiet and then began mulling something else over, cogs visibly turning in his mind as the two waited silently and patiently to be readdressed.

"-And what of the Frost Child's prophecy? The Wizard prophecy?" asked the vampire addressing Solaire. But Dhanke stepped forward and offered to speak.

"Sire if I may?"

"You may,"

"I propose we turn him," Dhanke let that sink in for a moment as the room went into uproar.

* * *

><p>It was night time now and Harry had to convince Marik and Ryou not to tie him to the guest bed to stop him moving. The other two took the bunk in there and watched Harry with unnerving stare until they were sure he was asleep.<p>

"Should one of us keep a night watch?" asked Marik with a yawn.

"I'll do it," offered Ryou "-I'm not that sleepy anyway,"

But before either of them could get to sleep, Harry darted awake and not because they were talking too loud, but the sound of the yard tree's branches hitting the room window stopped all conversation and sleep as the harsh winds blew.

"Just some stupid branches, go back to sleep," shrugged Ryou.

Harry didn't know why, but innately he felt fear and began to get out of the guest bed and slowly approach the window in an effort to shut the curtain. Was the boy's sleep so bad recently that the littlest thing freaked him out?

"Chill Harry, it's just a tree," said Marik slowly.

Harry backed away from the window as he let go of the curtain he'd reached out for and felt the light fabric slip out of his fingers. He couldn't blink, he stopped looking over the rectangular frame of his glasses and what passed for a branch was not dark brown but was a bottomless shade of black. It was elongated and thick for a branch, but not thin for what was definitely in the clarity of his glasses, an arm.

"That's not a branch," said Harry weakly backing away into the bunk bed. The other two jumped out and walked up to the window, the branch-arm seemed to lift and reveal what passed for an anthropomorphic oddity of a hand, a strange pasty white and yellow shade that they couldn't distinguish. Thin, odd shades of what would be branch like and elegant, but formed a hand that tapped the glass of the window teasingly. Ryou's expression turned to panic, Marik looked flustered and began to search for the Millennium Rod.

It occurred to Harry all at once and all too clearly that this was the feeling when he felt his hair stand on end at the nape of his neck. This was the feeling of being watched as he slept at night. This was the cause of the weird letters in the mail. This was his demon.

"Move back," barked Marik, bringing Ryou and Harry out of their panic frozen stasis, the albino grabbed Harry by the shoulder and backed them both behind the proudly standing Egyptian as he brandished a glowing golden artifact from beneath his pillow.

Marik's forehead glowed with an ancient Egyptian hieroglyph, runic in it's nature as shadows seem to ooze from the tool in his hand and attack outside of the window and send the branch-like arm flying away from the window. The window seemed empty of all presence now. No wind, no branch-arm, just the dark night.

Marik sighed with relief and put the rod to his side and slowly walked to the window.

"It could have just been the wind on the tree," said Ryou quietly, trying to comfort Harry "-the wind stopped so maybe that-"

"No," said Harry softly - instinctively, moving away from Ryou and forward to the window beside Marik.

They both looked out and saw nothing, they looked out into the yard and saw nothing but the upturned gnome. Marik grabbed Harry's arms sharply and followed the boy's stare to the nearby singular tree and looked beneath it. There it stood, as heat would twist reality in your vision when it's too hot, a creature bundled in darkness stood stock still. It was hard to tell if it was looking at them because it lacked any kind of facial detail in it's putrid white-yellow skin mesh.

"Please tell me you see that," hissed Marik.

Ryou approached too and followed their line of sight. It looked like a man, a very tall and smartly dressed male figure. It's legs were so long though - but even then Ryou couldn't see how it'd reach an upstairs window.

"Is it...a guy? How did it get up to our window?" said Ryou quietly. They all stared at it persistently, they saw strangle black lashes oozing and protruding out of it's back.

"I don't think we should be looking at it," croaked out Harry, feeling blood on his tongue as he coughed.

All three of them backed away at that and the Item wielding duo turned their attentions to Harry who began to splutter up a vicious painful splurt of blood that dribbled down his chin.

"It got to our window somehow," said Marik, glancing at it and seeing a long thin crack in the glass.

"It's following me," said Harry quietly, breaking the silence.

Ryou glanced out of the window again, beneath the tree - but it left. He exhaled a sigh of relief and smiled thinly at Harry however much he felt too scared out of his wits to really mean it.

"It's gone,"

* * *

><p>"-for soon he will be taken to the Dark Place and lacks the power to escape," argued Dhanke on the stage of Phasir's council.<p>

"He's dying, he's on borrowed time," said Solaire, pressing the Old One.

"Turning him will break the Wizard's prophecy for he will be undead," said Dhanke.

"-He will be in our coven's circle if we are the one's to do it, we will set the dogs of war upon the opposing factions! Who are Aldwyn and Krios to be sending their men for our heads? Hunters no less! Everyone. Will. Win. If we do this!" argued Dhanke.

"Who is to say he will fight for us if we do this? We, who plan to steal his humanity?" roared Phasir.

"It may as well be us before the beast of Aldwyn's ancestors!" snapped Dhanke, Solaire was aware of how risky this challenging of the Old One was.

"The beast is all our enemy! As a wizard, he is not strong enough! As a mortal - he is not strong enough - he is dying! With the old souls - HE IS NOT STRONG ENOUGH!" roared back Dhanke.

Solaire felt himself sweat as Phasir rose from his throne as if to physically smite Dhanke for his impertinence.

"-and if I concede you're correct, you propose we turn him into one of us? You, who barely escaped the Dark Place with only your years of experience - something the boy has not - even if we turn him," said Phasir, chest heaving as he held back his anger at his subordinate.

"This is why I propose we turn him into something more then merely I, or Solaire. For our kind is stubborn and cannot concede to the fact we're not strong enough to deal with Aldwyn's beast one to one," said Dhanke quieter now.

Solaire's eyes widened slowly - Dhanke couldn't seriously be suggesting-

"We turn him into Vambion, not unlike yourself,"

"-There's hardly if any of my kind of vampire left, Dhanke," sneered Phasir "-I suspect they've all been 'put down' by hunters or Aldwyn's men by now, anyway the boy lives on borrowed time - it will take us far too long to even check for them,"

"Sire, if I may be so bold, I propose that-"

"-_you._..turn him,"

You could hear a pin-drop in the silence that ensued.


	6. Vambion Turning

_Future Slash._

_Labelled horror under a recommendation :)_

_ DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter or YuGiOh_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Six<strong>

The night passed rather uneventfully except one of them was put on a watch, that rotated after a brief discussion in hush tones so as not to wake Isis or Odion or alert them that anything was amiss. The fact Harry's mouth had erupted in blood again when the window incident occurred was the topic of discussion before they attempted to get some sleep in. They weren't quite sure why, but they had a feeling it was to do with whatever was following Harry, and whatever was following Harry had something to do with the odd mail he'd received. Harry himself ruled out the other wizards and Death Eaters he spoke of as a cause for what was going on, but didn't rule out that it _may _have been to do with the homicidal "Dark Lord" maniac that could have sent the beast to kill him, since he could not breach the perimeter. Harry just got odder by the day and they were starting to wonder if they had bitten off more then they could chew when it came to befriending him. Ryou wasn't quite sure why they took care of Harry, because in reality that's what they were doing. But the more he thought about it, the more he could liken the odd boy to himself. Ryou considered himself to be a nice person, just a nice person with issues. Okay, they were 3,000 year old semi-homicidal demonic issues, but he would never characterize himself by the dark attitude of the Millennium Ring. Harry was just the same, on the surface he thought it was due to a medical condition, which in reality was complete dominance over a natural element which became the accidental key into learning just how special Harry was. A wizard that defied death a couple of times, with his own personal repertoire of enemies. Maybe that's why they kept Harry, nice as he was, there was a strange comfort in knowing someone both stranger and with the capacity to be of equal dangerousness to them, if not more. It was about 3:00AM and Ryou was awake, Marik awoke shortly after because it was time to change night shifts since none of them wanted to risk that weird thing coming back and catch them unprepared.

They both decided to stay up, watching Harry twist and turn in the bed. They continued their tired, hushed conversation - pausing now and then to observe the frost creeping up around the window and the white snow that had appeared on Harry's lashes. His exhales of breathe being different to theirs, turning into ice cold mist as he slept open-mouthed. Ryou was strangely captivated by it. Marik found it odd to see, but was not quite held by as he was by the vines of frost crawling up the glass.

"He's not so bad," sighed Ryou quietly "-I feel a bit sorry for him though."

Marik let out a noncommittal noise, but his expression demanded Ryou elaborate. There was lots of reasons one could feel bad for Potter, and he wanted to know which one his friend was getting at.

"He's got so many issues, and I really don't think his relatives like him - plus he didn't have any friends around here before us, must be hard," was all Ryou said.

"Don't like him? You can say that again. The first time he coughed blood was when I went over, but his Aunt was more concerned about the vase then him," said Marik, frowning as he remembered it. He didn't comment on Harry's lack of friends, reminded of his horrible first impression he'd made.

"Maybe we should keep him over here," suggested Ryou quietly.

"I mean, just until the summer is up, I'm not up for protecting his relatives if they hate him that much - but if he stays there, won't he be in danger? You saw his face when that - thing - was at the window. If it wasn't for us, it could have probably got to him," said Ryou, and Marik could tell he could put a lot of thought into this and was a little surprised. He knew Ryou got on with Harry and was on kinder terms then he was, but he didn't know that in such a short amount of time, Ryou was concerned.

"You have a point," said Marik "-but we should probably tell Isis and Odion what's going on, right from the start. Don't want them getting a nasty surprise from that...thing," he said, worrying about his family. Ryou's expression shifted - he hadn't even _thought _of that, he always assumed the Ishtars were able to protect themselves but in reality it was Marik with the most power to do so.

Then, they heard another noise at the window, and they sprung up from their place - shaking Harry awake.

* * *

><p>The window violently opened itself, making the sound of a thud echo through the room as something crawled in. It was a flurry of robes - not what they'd encountered mere hours previously. Something seemed to make the very air itself crack, heat crawled into the room and the frost on the windows melted into warm drops of water that wet the walls and the carpet in small trails.<p>

Harry let out a sleepy groan of dissent as he felt someone pull him by the shoulders and drag him from the bed but drop him due to his bodyweight with an uncomfortable thud.

"Sorry!" squeaked Ryou, trying to pull Harry as far away from the window as Marik dealt with what had barged into their home.

Harry blinked the tiredness out of his eyes and brushed the snow from his lashes. Looking up at the apologetic teen, he stumbled to his feet and moved behind Marik once more, for the same protection.

But it was not the suited faceless beast that they had encountered mere hours previous.

"Harry?" hissed Ryou quietly, eyes never leaving the uninvited guest.

Harry didn't say anything, he remained mute - for he had no link with the person in the room. He seemed to generate their own atmosphere, and stood tall enough that a jump would have resulted in a severe head injury from the ceiling. The robes it sported were long and traditional, a deep reddish black and an almost medieval appearance to the upper shirt and overall dated yet fitting look. He had sunken red eyes, but not unusually so - with high cheekbones, sharp nose and unforgiving expression, unhidden by the brown locks that fell gracefully to his shoulders.

Marik had the Millennium Rod raised as he did before, ready to attack, but the man smiled - revealing pointed teeth. Ryou glanced at Harry's expression, Harry was fishing for his wand that he couldn't quite find and then looked up and glared from behind Marik.

"Vampire," snapped Harry - all of his senses went off and told him on some sort of primal based wizarding instinct.

"Harry Potter," it said, warmly - Marik glanced between the pair. Of course, he wanted to lunge for the thing, but Harry beat them to it. It was like watching an animal crawl out from it's nest and go into an instinctual attack mode. If either of them asked Harry how he did what he did, he probably wouldn't be able to tell them. It felt like a pure reflex that he was pulling water and perspiration from the bodies and air and sending a small, but targeted stab of ice into the face of the vampire. It was done in a single reflexive arm movement, but Ryou had never seen the feeling move from someone's face so quickly. Harry's hair seemed to be tipped with transparent, sharp spikes of frosts at their ends. The vampire seemed moderately impressed, but side-stepped the blast with mockingly slow ease.

"How the hell did you get in here? We didn't invite you in," was the first stream of words to come out of Harry's mouth and the first directed at the intruder.

The vampire tilted his head, vaguely amused that Harry saw _him _as the threat. Though he was pleasantly surprised that the boy knew at least something about the standard vampire - that they could not breach a mortal premises without permission. A rather ancient protective magic that was weaved into the universe, to protect mortals that were not over-lorded by magical beings, decreed that vampires could not pass through a mortal threshold. Vampires, being the embodiment of both sin, evil and lack of mortality, could only cross the safety and love within the walls of a mortal home if humans allowed them in. Allowing sin into their lives. It was like an ancient metaphor in a way, though really it's an example of natural blood wards in their purest and simplest form. That love had the ability to stop them raw in their tracks.

"Not an ordinary vampire," said the man wryly.

"I don't care how you got in here, but we're taking you out," snarled Marik.

The vampire looked mildly alarmed at this and took two steps back, holding his hands up to a surrender.

"Oh, you entirely mistake my reasons for being here," Harry gave the vampire an icy look.

"What possible good reason could you have for being here? Did Voldemort send you? I don't even know how you breached the blood wards-" rattled off Harry until the vampire stopped him raw.

"I was able to breach the blood wards because you are in no danger from me, on the contrary Harry Potter. My coven have a vested interest in keeping you," the vampire did not add _alive_ onto the sentence, the whole thing made Harry uneasy. He noticed Ryou had changed - and though Ryou spoke of his other side as had Marik, Harry had yet to see either of them make an appearence. He had no reason to believe they'd lie about having schizophrenic alternate evil personalities for the simple reason of who would _want _to lie about that? Though his kind faced and nicer of the two friends, was looking sharper featured and rather cold. Not like Ryou at all.

"What - are - you?" not-Ryou asked.

The vampire ignored the question totally, but the Millennium items seemed to be fending something off, like an invisible attack. Unfortunately, Harry did not have this protection, Yami Bakura's eyes flitted to the frost boy after this realization only to see Marik doing the same - reaching the same conclusion. Harry's feet were taken the him in slow steps towards the vampire. From the glazed look in the greens of his iris's, Harry was no longer completely within his mental faculties because the possessed walk over to the vampire was one of somebody being controlled. Pulled in. That seemed to be what the Millennium Items were naturally deflecting. The vampire had his hand extended out for Harry, eyeing him down with a predatory expression.

"I have come merely for the frost boy, and you care for him Shadow Wielders, do you not?" asked the vampire.

Marik blinked, now if the guy meant harm - he was doing it slowly and neither he nor Ryou were the target. Harry seemed to be falling into the man's arms rather quickly, until for a moment, Harry seemed to fight it, life returned into his eyes and his fist tried to connect with the vampire's face.

"Really, Harry?" drawled the man. It stopped him raw and the glaze returned and the scene made Marik's skin crawl and Yami Bakura looked faintly nauseated from what was playing out infront of him, because there was something decidedly perverse hanging in the air.

Harry wanted to lunge for the intruder - to hurt him, he really did. For his moment of clarity when fighting the super natural pull towards his body, every part of him was screaming to step away from him instead of forward.

His fist had stopped at the voice curved with a tantalizing, foreign pull that made warmth pull through his insides.

He _wanted _to hurt the vampire.

_He's too beautiful to hurt - to kill._

The thought did not felt like it belonged to him. Neither did the feelings. It was stronger then anything he'd ever encountered and worst of all it was a mixture of magical and sensual.

"Harry Potter will die soon," said the vampire, pulling the boy closer to him, and holding him by the face delicately - Harry was so far under his spell that he was unable to blink or gaze away. He looked horrifyingly vacant.

The long, creepy yet graceful fingers of the vampire, pulled at Harry gently by the chin, to have his mouth slightly agape. Operating the Frost boy like he was a porcelain mute doll, it was uncomfortable to watch

"He's already been visited by the curse of blood," said the vampire, and the fires in his red eyes seem to alight as he could smell the coppery taint of blood that had previously been within his mouth. If the vampire could resist his urge to plunge his tongue inside of the boy for the sake of everybody else in the room, he was sure he would taste the hot glory of wizard's blood.

"He's dying slowly," drawled the man, looking back up at the Ring Spirit and Marik.

"You would know this how?" snapped Yami Bakura, it was raw curiosity that he asked - but the vampire smirked regardless.

"The beast that visited your home was not one of ours, but a common enemy. Had my coven not already be undead, we'd have suffered as Harry Potter is suffering," said the vampire.

"Soon, he will be reduced to something so weak, that not even your protection will stop the beast from taking him, and when he is taken, he will die - if the beast's sickness does not take him first," it continued.

"Though your protection is more then we could offer him, I can offer him an extension of his life, you want him to live do you not?" asked the vampire.

They wanted to think he was lying through his teeth, but it felt as though he were not.

"You care for the boy, don't you Old Soul?" asked the vampire - he could practically _smell_ it off the white-haired one, and the Egyptian come to think of it - but moreso in one direction that it made him raise an elegant brow.

Yami Bakura gave him a cold look, he would not take charge for whatever his useless host felt, but he would not contradict it either.

"Get away from him!" Marik seemed to predict what was happen far faster then Yami Bakura did, as the vampire had pulled Harry into him and dove into the nape of his white soft flesh, fangs drawn.

* * *

><p>They had cast the vampire out on his ear before he could explain, and really Phasir needed to be there - but his piss poor explanation of things, abrupt arrival and everything else couldn't have been worse timed. But Phasir did not predict that the beast would have moved in as quick as he did - so he had to come in that very same night lest it be too late.<p>

Marik and Ryou, who had been given back control after the danger passed, had to hold Harry down onto the bed. They heard numerous unpleasant grinding sounds coming from Harry's body internally, and Harry was gritting his teeth until he couldn't do it anymore due to the change occurring in his mouth.

For a terrifying moment, his image whited and his body was still.

For one split moment, Harry Potter was dead, as blood jutted from his jugular into the white of the bed.

* * *

><p>Both Marik and Ryou looked ill, turning to each other in silence, Ryou about to say something in a rather broken voice until Harry's body shifted.<p>

Harry's eyes opened once more, and silvery breathe exhaled from his open mouth once more as frost began creeping around the room, except within his mouth - were two small sharpened teeth in his upper set, exactly as the intruding vampire's had been. They put the covers over Harry so that his body could change without them looking, because the sounds alone were making them cringe. Even if through the painful change - which somehow Harry was sleeping through - was changing his body, making him taller, paler, thinner or leaner in some places and it was all together too strange and bizarrely intimate to see.

So the two sat in silence, watching the lump under the covers until finally it was still, and there was only soft snoring to be heard.

Finally, Ryou said it.

"So... that guy bit Harry,"

Marik nodded.

"I think there's more going on then any of us know, and I'm getting really confused," sighed Marik.

"I think in the morning, we should go and talk to Isis and Odion," suggested Ryou quietly.

"I think you're right,"


End file.
